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[h2][color=darkorchid][i][b]Victoria Belmont[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=9932cc]Half-Elf, Bard, Level 5[/color][/b][/i]
[color=9932cc][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 33 / 33	[color=9932cc][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 15	[color=9932cc][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=9932cc][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] The Coach House (Leftmost bedroom, 2F -> Taproom/Kitchen)
[color=9932cc][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Casting [i]Prestidigitation[/i] and [i]Minor Illusion[/i] - Acrobatics Check
[color=9932cc][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] [color=black]Morty[/color], [color=dimgray]Familiar[/color]
[color=9932cc][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/k55RrWV/Victoria-Alt-4-2.png[/img][/right]
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	Morning came, and with it an odd sense of purpose. Victoria had the opinion that, if they were going to be in this place for three months (give or take), she was going to reinforce her existing abilities and work hard to incorporate her newer ones into her repertoire as an adventuring Bard. It was a new day, coming into a new season, and she was rising in power. Yes, the most would be made of this opportunity. Now if she could just find a few willing people to practice her magics on, things would be just peachy. Or a gaggle of deceased ones. That might work, too. Being a secondary student of Necromancy, she already had a list of things she could use a cadaver for - today. But without these things, she would have to improvise. Music, and the musical mindset, was the means by which she manipulated the Weave of Magic, and if she could not practice direct spellwork, then she would strengthen her fundamentals therein even as she wrote and performed more complex, more impassioned music; strengthening her connection to her arcane arts.  

	First, she had to get herself out of bed. This was key. And while she was immensely disciplined in matters of music, magic, and pursuits involving her own vanity, Victoria's appreciation of creature comforts occasionally counterproductive to the image of that discipline. It was no surprise that she was the last one out of their bedroom that morning. The fire was low; mere embers at this point, and a greater chill was upon the room than was there the previous evening. No matter, she was getting up anyway. Preparations to seize the day were upon the young and talented Bard. 

	Victoria took advantage of the lack of people in the room and deftly shed her black silk undergarments, still beneath the blankets of her bed as she was not ready to face the cold just yet. She bunched them together and cast a simple Prestidigitation three times: Once to clean and freshen them, twice to smooth out any wrinkles that had accumulated over the night, and a third time to gently warm the garment to something perfectly comfortable with which she could stave off the cold for just long enough to get into something more appropriate to the weather. After slipping things back on, Victoria dared to exit the blankets and gingerly put her feet upon the floor. It was warmer than she expected. Someone was working in the kitchen, below. 

	After a quick, personal cleanup and a touch of cosmetics, Victoria donned the clothing she had left out for herself the night before. It felt good to dress in decent, fitting clothing with just a touch of [i]extra[/i] to them, and in her signature colors of purple, grey, and black. Like the field uniform of a soldier ready to perform their duties, just without all of that unsightly marching and yelling. She looked equally ready to travel, play a concert, or engage in magical combat. And even if a fight was not forthcoming in the near future, she took it upon herself to buckle on her favorite dagger ([i]always use your own blade[/i], a maxim from her father) and her now expertly silvered rapier, a beautiful weapon decorated with vine and leaflike inlays of the lunar-associated metal which gave the obvious Human construction a touch of an Elven look, which she was immensely happy about. Victoria wondered if she was going to let the silver intentionally blacken for the look of it, as many did with their armor, or keep it to a vivid, reflective polish. [color=9932cc]"Hmm... I should decide later,"[/color] she reasoned with herself. Procrastination about issues not immediately important was another of her weaknesses, were she being honest with herself. But to word of the immediately important which could not bear the curse of The sudden desire to make use of a chamberpot took hold of her, now that she was up and moving about. Far be it for her to risk a sudden entry to the room and see her in a compromised position, Victoria conjured up the illusion of a small privacy screen and made use of [i]The Bucket[/i]. Too bad there wasn't a lid. But it did remind her - didn't they have their own magical chamberpot in their group belongings? She was sure that they did. 

	In the tradition of Bards making an exit, even when there was no one to witness it, Victoria swept on her cloak and placed her especially bardy hat upon her head, took up her violin and ritual book (both of which she slung across her back), and strode toward the door. At the last moment before leaving, Victoria stopped and sighed. Of course, they had a deal in play. She recovered the bucket and, carrying it slightly away from her by its rope handle, sauntered with as much dignity that she could muster down the hall and out into the fresh morning. A quick mental command saw Morty following at her heel. 

	Still holding that godsforsaken bucket, Victoria took just a moment to gaze across the frost-covered land around her, beyond the outer walls of the Couch House. It was quite a lovely sight, and the cold coloring her cheeks did nothing to detract from the moment. Not quite so much as a container of liquid "leavings". Snapped back to the waiting world of bucket responsibilities, the descent of the stairs was made. One step. Two steps. Three - [i]and then tragedy[/i]. Well, almost. The slip of a foot upon a portion of stair that had already been tread across, the frost loosened from it but not removed, and a person of lesser grace might have taken a tumble. [i]With the bucket[/i]. Instead, Victoria pivoted and sidestepped twice down the stairs, arresting her uncontrolled plummet with at least a quart of her associates' cold urine. As quickly as she dared, the stairs were navigated and she left the bucket near to the front gate, just a touch off to the side.

	Victoria did not go into the Taproom immediately. She took the moment and empty courtyard to warm up her voice and test the acoustics of the place. She started by vocalizing a few scales at first, easing into volume from something meek to something powerful before going through a few classic vocal exercises. Nothing involving lyrics. Pure melody, showcasing the range and clarity of her honeyed voice and lung capacity. Then she went into something more free of notion, choosing in the moment the order of note after note, just to enjoy herself. She did not reach for her violin. This was not a time to limber her fingers with bow and strings. The nimbleness of her voice and strength with which she used it were fully enough. As she reached the apex of her vocalizations, her raven Familiar manifested in the Material Plane with a flutter of black feathers and lighted on her outstretched arm. Victoria smiled. It was time to go back inside. 

	The enigmatic Bard gently opened the front door and stepped inside. Her raven found a comfortable spot on the mantle while Morty simply remained at her heel, per usual, until he came fully inside. The necromantic animation then pushed the door closed and took up the same spot by the wall that it did the previous evening. There was no greeting from those already up and about before her; point of fact there wasn't anyone in this room at present. Victoria unloaded her book, violin, and swordbelt on the nearby table and went into the kitchen, where she [i]did[/i] hear people. 

	[color=9932cc]"Kosara, what..?"[/color] was all she could say at first, turning to one side with indecision as to whether she should avert her eyes, or if the damage was done from a social standpoint. One might have also noticed the blush starting to color her cheeks. Luckily, she could blame the cold outside for this, but not for too much longer as she was now in a warm room. Victoria glanced to Lizbeth, who looked to be preparing some sort of herbal tea, and mentioned, [color=9932cc]"This is not the custom here, and she is still a child, Kosara."[/color] Victoria offered over her cloak, imploring, [color=9932cc]"Please. We may find someplace more appropriate later."[/color] 

	In an effort to change topic, Victoria looked to their host, saying, [color=9932cc]"I would absolutely love a cup of your tea, Mademoiselle Lizbeth. Is that grape leaf?"[/color] The blush was, unfortunately, staying on her face even as she continued holding the cloak out for her associate.